


lonely shadows, lonely ghosts

by tiredseth



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, and geoff is sober, golden boy - Freeform, jack is trans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 15:43:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11877675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiredseth/pseuds/tiredseth
Summary: the fake ah crew is synonymous with destruction, destruction born from complacency and arrogance. they've conquered every obstacle and made the citizens of los santos fear their names. the police have no power, and rival crews have all been forced to learn their place. there's nothing left to overcome.when you have everything you could ever want, how else do you have fun?





	lonely shadows, lonely ghosts

The job was simple: infiltrate a rival gang's hideout, crack their safe, make a getaway with the cash. It was spur of the moment, something Geoff cooked up last second during one of his biker spells. Most of the Fakes were convinced their boss was going through a midlife crisis, but when the crisis provided them with flashy souped-up motorcycles, everyone was more than happy to play biker for his benefit. Ryan seemed to be the only one who wasn't onboard with the idea.

The crew had just concluded their board meeting over the job in question, if you could even call it a meeting. The plan was little more than show up then blow everything to kingdom come. The Lads filed out of the room, bringing their idle chatter about who gets what code name with them, leaving on the Gents behind. Ryan stood leaning against a wall, arms crossed, donning a frustrated scowl. His gaze fell on Geoff; pensively, he opened his mouth then closed it once again. It was difficult to approach, considering how meaningful this appeared to be. He focused his sights on Jack at an attempt to gauge to situation, using her reaction as a means of formulating an appropriate response.

Jack spoke first. "Ryan, you look like you wanted to say something."

"Real smooth Jack" he stated, bringing his hand up to massage his strained temples. "It's just- Have you really thought this through Geoff?"

"What do you mean? Of course I've thought this through! It's gonna go great. We'll really stick it to thos-"

"I mean have you really thought about this, Geoff. We're risking all-out war here. And for what? A few grand and some cheap thrills? It hardly seems worth it."

"Since when are you so holy that you'd turn your nose up at thirty-grand cut?"

"Since when are you so short-sighted that you'd truly believe it's worth risking the gang's integrity for less than a 200k profit?" With grit teeth and clenched fists, he took a step forward.

"If you haven't noticed yet, I'm the fucking boss here, Ryan. I'm the one who has the pleasure of deciding what is or what isn't best for the crew." Geoff spit, inching closer.

"If those decisions are made six glasses in at three a.m., then you can't fault me for questioning them, can you, Geoff?" 

"Okay this is going too far." Jack said, physically stepping between them. “Both of you need to calm down.” 

“So I’m just supposed to allow this asshole to continuously undermine my authority?”

“No, but as a leader you’re supposed to listen to constructive criticism.”

“Thank you!” Ryan said in an exasperated tone, dramatically throwing his arms up.

“Constructive was the key word there, Ryan. Blatantly shitting on an idea doesn’t help anyone.” Jack was at her wits end. She despised being the voice of reason in the merry-band-of-misfits they called a gang; it would make anyone grow weary no matter the ties they all held. “I’m going to try and state this very plainly. Both of you need to take a step back and breathe. This type of aggression belongs on the field, not in the office. If we can’t talk about this rationally like adults, I will get a goddamn talking stick to pass between the two of you.” 

Neither would break the silence, like speaking would convey weakness and admit defeat. In a sense, it would. There’s no doubt the first to speak wouldn’t feel as if they’d given the silent a moral victory, and there was already enough arrogance in the building to go around. Instead they both opted to tense quiet, hoping the other would cave. 

Realizing this, Jack let out a heavy sigh. “Alright, I guess I’m the one to decide this then. The plan is still on.” Ryan’s body language went tense at that statement. “The Vicérants are still in their forming stages here in Los Santos. Even if this sparks something, their headquarters are in Vice City, ergo, they don’t have the firepower down here to be a real threat. We don’t do any major dealing with them, and they aren’t allies with any of our business partners. Our next heist isn’t scheduled for another month, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t getting antsy over the lack of excitement.” 

Ryan appeared to start a rebuttal but decided against it. 

“And if I’m getting antsy, imagine how the Lads must feels. You know what happens when they get too bored.” 

And they did know. Bored Lads caused more problems than they’d like to admit. The three boys were useful, sure, but god they were trouble. Their leashes could only be held onto for so long before they became unruly. 

Ryan rolled his eyes then exited the room without another word. Geoff and Jack remained, both letting out a sigh in sync, looked up at one another with small half-hearted smiles. 

“Crisis averted?”

“I want a drink.”

“Geoff..” she said with hints of concern in her voice. 

“I won’t! I won’t!” he said, raising his hands defensively “Doesn’t mean I still don’t want one.” 

Jack gave him a small pat on his shoulder before leaving to begin prep work.

\---

“This is gonna be so fucking sweet” Michael snickered to himself while cleaning his pistol on the coffee table.

“What’s he talking about now?” Jack asked, walking into the room.

“He’s thinking about strapping rockets to his bike.” Jeremy said in a monotone voice, not looking up from his inventory. 

“I think it’s a great idea.” Gavin chimed in, scrolling on his phone. He looked the most nonchalant out of the bunch, draped over the couch with his feet resting on the sides and a lax elbow occasionally bumping into Michael’s back. He wrapped a gold chain between his fingers, and the light from his phone reflected off the gaudy shades resting on his head. 

Gaudy, now that was a word to describe Gavin (though he preferred the term ‘extravagance’). All the money he’s earn has been spent on his appearance. Silk shirts, high-end hair products, designer jeans, one-of-a-kind jewelry pieces, and his iconic gold sunglasses. 

Not to say anyone in their group looked normal, Jack’s wardrobe was mostly made up of cargo shorts and hawaiian shirts. Michael never seemed to take off his leather jacket no matter the heat. Geoff won’t step out of the pent-house even for a grocery trip without wearing a suit. Jeremy's hair color fluctuates each month and wear that monstrous colored suit with a cowboy hat. Ryan had that creepy skull mask and wears his face paint even of off days. As a group, they rarely looked cohesive unless the heist required disguises. 

“You destroy your bike, Geoff won’t buy you another one.” Jack cautioned, forcing Michael to make eye-contact. 

Looking back he snorted complacently, “Yes he will.”

She was starting to understand Ryan’s concern for their recklessness. The Lads have tried dumber, more dangerous stunts than this and always walked away alive. She brushed it off and set to gather her own weapons. 

\---

A few hours later and the lot of them were on the road. A formation of obnoxious motorcycles with clashing color schemes revving down the highway, weaving between traffic, horns blaring, veering towards one another with their legs sticking out. Stifled laughter and half-hearted threats can be heard in small snippets over the coms cutoff by static and the sound of the wind whipping harshly. 

Michael and Gavin are wearing the biggest smiles playing their game of chicken. Michael’s curls were being blown away from his face as he leaned his weight back, tapping the clutch to do a wheelie. Even through all the noise you could hear Gavin crowing “That’s wicked Michael!”

After his front wheel touched back down, Michael accelerated towards the front of the pack overtaking Geoff. 

“Hey asshole! I’m the boss here, I get to take point!” 

Michael looked back towards him with a mischievous grin and went full throttle, shouting with a giggle in his voice “Guess you should fire me!”

Geoff’s brows clenched and eyes narrowed, determined to best Michael. After all, the boss has the best bike. The pair sped towards the horizon, lit by the sun, casting elongated shadows onto the pavement. It was picturesque to the crew, a scene that embodied their whole attitude: impudent chaos. 

This forced the remainder of them to drive recklessly (even by their standards) to limit the increasing distance. Jack took note of Ryan lagging behind; he was far less foolhardy than usual, and his demeanor clearly conveyed annoyance despite the mask. She shook her head and decided to focus on enjoying herself and let everything else work itself out. 

Looking over the Jeremy, he seemed oddly calm. His polarized sunglasses glinted in light, and he wore a lazy smile, one of comfort, one of familiarity. It made her feel pride, which was immediately shifted to boisterous laughter as his cowboy hat flew off his head, Jeremy miraculously grabbing it before it was swept away. Jack was shaking with laughter with tears in her eyes struggling for breath and balance as she spoke into the com “Tell me-tell me someone else fucking saw that. That was amazing. I can’t believe you- Jeremy oh my god” 

“Lil J broke Jack.” Geoff said in a playful tone. 

“How did you even- I just can’t- that was so- jesus christ. The look on your face- it was so priceless. I should start wearing a gopro on me-dear lord”.

A short time later, they arrived at the Vicérants’ safe house. It was a shabby building with rotting wood and peeling paint. Shingles had began to fall from the roof, shutters were hanging crooked on cracked windows, boards in the porch were lifting, and part of the awning was sinking. Several old pickups sat in a random array across the property, mostly parked near large tanks presumably filled with gas. 

They didn’t look prepared for an attack. 

The group pulled behind a barn at the edge of the farm to do a quick weapons check and assign tasks. Jeremy and Geoff were infiltration, Gavin and Michael were cover fire, and Jack and Ryan guarded the rear. The plan was shoddy, but anticipation was high. It was time to launch into action.

**Author's Note:**

> if there's any interest i might continue this? please forgive me for all comma splices, run ons, and awkward wording in general. i don't know grammar outside of what the songs in school house rock taught me. 
> 
> hope you like it!!


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